Last Life

THE UNKNOWN CREATURE spoke to me in the witching tongue, not even considering whether or not I understood the language. Also, despite my efforts, it spotted my true nature with ease.

My first thought was the lutine — she would have been up to this task. Honestly though, last time we met, she praised me for my progress in stealth.

“Well, finishing you off would be simple,” I replied in witching. “In fact, I couldn’t fail.”

“True,” the creature said with a glum sigh, not yet getting up off the floor.

I chuckled internally. In true vision, I could see perfectly well the way it was slowly and unhurriedly starting to draw mana from the crimson amulet in the pot with the merchant’s belongings. For the record, the mana in it was already just fumes. Even a fool could tell that it was trying to slow me down while itself preparing for a diversion.

“What makes you think I’d want to kill you?” I asked. Meanwhile, I got up and sat on the bed. “What if I let you go?”

“Let me go?” a thoughtful look appeared on the stranger’s snout. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” I confirmed.

“So I can just go?” I saw its hair start to move. I looked closer and spotted little raccoon-like ears.

They protected and guarded their reservoir. My adoptive mother told me that if there were any “unclaimed” places of power in my world, then they were hidden very well from the human eye and that usually meant some little beings just like these.

But sometimes nisse were known to serve gifted people. And it didn’t matter what kind — all they cared about was getting a regular portion of power. Otherwise, without that fuel, a nisse could die.

In that way, they resembled lutines. But they served a different function. Nisse, unlike lutines, didn’t like to stay away from their magical reservoir for long. They were homebodies and good guards. With a little wonder woman like this in the house, I could rest assured that my possessions would never be left unattended. Particularly when it came to gold, silver, and other items I valued.

If there was a coin rolling around under a couch or in an old jacket, that was a sure sign of a home without nisse. They never left things like that lying around. They would have everything accounted for and stored carefully in a modest and hard to access place to deter thieves. And meanwhile, thieves would be better off not poking their noses in a nisse’s house. The nisse would tear anyone to shreds for their master’s belongings.

Realizing what kind of creature was now in my room, I figured out why it had come to pay me a visit.

“Go,” I permitted and smiled internally.

The nisse, wheezed and slowly stood up. She shook off pointedly. I noticed that her clothing was all patched and sewn back together. Much the same as her energy system. This poor creature didn’t have to feign weakness.

The nisse’s hair reminded me of a bird’s nest. Stalks of hay and straw stuck out of her hair. She herself looked quite rough. She must have been starving both physically and in terms of energy.

The amulet inside the pot was her whole magic reservoir. It probably contained a modicum of her master’s power. Considering that the energy in it was down to the bottom — this little thing was not long for this world.

Meanwhile, the nisse slowly walked up to the bundle containing the pot of coins and the amulet, sneaking glances my way to check if I was watching.

When she picked up the bundle, I cleared my throat. The nisse shuddered and froze in place.

“I permitted you to go, but I didn’t say you could have my stuff,” I stated, struggling to hide my smile.

The nisse breathed a heavy sigh and her shoulders fell, powerless.

“It was foolish to expect anything else from a fox,” she muttered quietly to herself, but I heard it.

Not dropping the little bundle, she turned her head to me and said:

“This is not your stuff, it belonged to my lady master. And I was told to guard it.”

I snorted:

“Perhaps that was the case. But now it’s mine. I found it, and now it’s in my room. And you’re trying to steal it.”

The nisse opened her mouth to object, but I got out ahead:

“Also, you’re a middling guard at best. Your master was wrong to entrust you with their things. They weren’t well hidden. They were practically in plain sight. There for the plucking.”

My teasing worked as intended. The nisse dropped the bundle and, standing akimbo, thrust her chin upward. The red bird’s nest on her head careened amusingly. She placed her right leg forward. Her little toes poked out of holes in her well-worn moccasins. Big dark-green eyes glimmered with challenge.

Heh… And where was this poor and unfortunate mortal going?

“Mind your tongue, fox!” she squeaked out in offense. “I’ve been guarding this stuff since the grandfather of the current konung lay in the cradle wetting himself! It was well hidden! Many tried to find it and got nowhere!”

How long had she been sitting in that one spot? I wondered where her master was. She was probably never coming back. By the way, that reminded me. The coins in the pot seemed to me to be of an old minting. I never found the time to properly look through the contents.

“Something isn’t coming together…” I snorted. “If things are really as you say, why then is that pot here in my house? When I took it from the ground, no one was there to stop me…”

“What do you mean?!” the nisse was outraged. “Who do you think turned the ground to stone? And who was distracting your warriors’ eyes? Even the descendant of the great snow leopard couldn’t sense anything!”

Hm… Now there she was right. Jacques couldn’t believe for a long time that there was something buried beneath that wall and then, while working the shovel, he complained that the ground was frozen solid.

“To you, fox, my sorcery is but child’s play…” the nisse added more quietly. “The amount of power in you pains me, both from within, and what you’ve borrowed. And is there any way to hide a magic treasure from a seer? The smallest flicker of power looks like a beacon in the darkness to a seer. If the pot was cursed or sealed with runes, then sure… But such magic is beyond me.”

She then looked totally defeated. As if the last spark of strong emotion had drained the last of her life force. And she wasn’t pretending. I could see it perfectly well. Her energy system was fading.

“What’s taking your master so long then?” I asked. Though I could already guess what I’d hear. “She left, but never came back for you.”

“She’s gone now…” the nisse answered quietly, nearly in a whisper. “Has been for a long time… I cannot sense her life force. But I will do her bidding to the end… Know that!”

Woah! What a bond they had.

“And all that’s left of her is that amulet?” I asked, nodding at the pot.

The nisse shuddered and raised her head sharply. In her eyes burned determination to fight to the end, even if it was for a long dead master.

A moment later, her ears perked up and she cast a cautious glance at the door. I got on guard but relaxed a second later. It was Bertrand. I wondered what he could want in the middle of the night.

When my valet knocked, the nisse raced off like a silent shadow toward the cracked open window. A moment later, she slipped through the gate and disappeared into the night.

“Come in!” I said and the door opened. Bertrand’s pale face emerged from the darkness.

“Your Worship, forgive me for disturbing your sleep…”

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t sleeping. Has something happened?”

Bertrand gulped uneasily.

“Downstairs… There are some people who want to talk to you. They’re very angry and acting hostile.”

“Who are they?” I asked, pulling on my pants.

“The name of their leader is Magnus Thunder, he’s chief of Clan Snowhair.”

“What could he possibly want with me?”

“I do not know, Your Worship,” Bertrand replied in confusion. “The only thing I could make out in their cursing was that the son of the chief was poisoned tonight.”

“So Olaf Birdcatcher is dead?” I snorted. “Actually… Now I understand why his dad came to visit me. Where are our people?”

“Blocking the tavern door, Your Worship,” Bertrand reported back, helping me button up my brigandine. “Among them, by the way, are the tavern owner, and a priest of the Forefather… The same one who blessed the duel between Sigurd and the late Count de Mornay.”

When speaking the name of my opponent from the day before, Bertrand blessed first me then himself with a protective gesture.

“So what is a priest doing here?” I asked in surprise.

“He was feasting all evening,” Bertrand explained, straightening out the scabbard of my sword. “He joined up when you were already upstairs… He loves this sort of thing. He’s a bottomless pit when it comes to ale… It’s a quick way to lose one’s wits.”

“I see,” I snorted, no longer listening to Bertrand’s mumbling.

“It’s freezing in here,” the old man shivered and looked around.

Spotting the cracked open window, he shook his head and hurried to close it.

“Leave it open,” I stopped him before leaving the room.

And, with a smile, added with a quick glance at the wrapped-up clay pot:

“Let it air out a bit. You know how I am. I don’t like stuffy, stale air.”

I didn’t want to be responsible for the nisse’s death. Particularly after she didn’t try to do me any harm. She was a different breed of creature. They lived by different laws. They were as ancient as the world itself.

Even if she didn’t have long left. I didn’t think she’d manage to get too far. The amulet’s energy was essentially down to fumes.

But alas, I was also tangentially at fault for that. She could have survived another few years on that tiny bit of mana. But now…

She wouldn’t even be able to move around properly. She was probably sitting somewhere in the attic of the stables right over her stash, half asleep to conserve energy, coming out to hunt mice and insects as little as possible.

So let her take her long dead master’s things and go. As for the coins… I could afford it.

On my way down the stairs, I heard distant screams from outside. The loud, booming voice of the priest of the Forefather monotonously droned out to the people that they shouldn’t violate the ceasefire for the konung had announced it and the gods had blessed it.

I praised the priest in my mind. He spoke confidently with no stumbling. His tongue didn’t even slip. Although, if Bertrand was to be believed, he had drunk quite a lot. How did such an old sagging man have so much strength? On the other hand, it was no surprise. Most likely, the priests of the Forefather, just like their frosty colleagues, had their secrets. Honestly though, last time, I didn’t notice any magic in Lief’s friend. I would have to look into him closer. Here, in this world, anything was possible. Just now, I had been speaking with a creature that was regarded as a fairy tale in my home world.

When I stepped out the door, as if on command, everyone turned my way. To my satisfaction, I couldn’t see even a hint of fear on my peoples’ faces. There was a slight worry. And that was fine. It was always that way before a fight. But there was no fear. And that was clearly not just the alcohol. My people had backbone. I could sense it.

I nodded to them and turned to the northerners standing in a dense formation opposite the tavern entrance. The Clan Snowhair delegation, led by a gray-bearded big man had come in full force. And meanwhile, they were all armed to the teeth.

Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced over at where the priest and owner of the Copper Cauldron were standing — both of them were smiling in satisfaction, sensing a sudden chance for profit. And a bit of fun. Oh, it had all started with a nice round of drinking, and now logically had to end with a big fight. It would be the kind of thing people around here talked about for years to come.

“My name is Maximillian Renard.” I said calmly. “My servant told me that someone wanted to talk to me.”

“I am Magnus Thunder, chief of Clan Snowhair!” the gray-bearded bruiser stepped forward. “And I accuse you of villainously poisoning my son! You were afraid to face him in the arena because you knew you’d lose!”

Well, well… This guy was not beating around the bush. And no wonder. Based on his fur clothing and weaponry, which was of less than stellar quality, these Snowhairs had slunk in from some backwater. These guys were used to settling matters quickly and without delay. But okay, I’d have to meet them where they were.

Hm… By the way, they had come with a few troops from Konung Harold’s camp. Completely expected — they were essentially on the same side. For the record, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out Olaf Birdcatcher had been poisoned on Harold Graywolf’s orders.

A sort of primitive operation. But it might work on savages. It also helped his son — take down a dangerous enemy, play on Konung Sharptooth’s nerves, and turn a clan of savages against me.

Anything was possible. Now I found that theory more plausible than the one where Olaf Birdcatcher was poisoned by Astrid. Although she most likely was also capable. While conversing with the princess, I came to the conclusion that she wasn’t as simple as she seemed. There was something dangerous and dark inside her. She let slip at one point that she would do what she could to help me in the Trial.

And so she poisoned Olaf Birdcatcher. Sounded like help to me.

“I publicly declare that you are lying — I never poisoned your son!” I said loudly and with a less respectful air. “Why should I have done that? I would have defeated him either way!”

The northerners started buzzing and murmuring. My people meanwhile looked at them and smiled.

“Then may the gods judge us!” Magnus Thunder boomed out.

“May the gods judge us!” I repeated the ritual phrase and took a step forward.

My people parted ways. They immediately opened a space for us. The priest went into the circle and said a short blessing.

Magnus Thunder, unlike his son, was not gifted. That was not to say he was any less dangerous an opponent, though.

The gray-bearded giant stepped forward. The big, huge battle axe looked like a child’s plaything in his mighty mitts.

The last words of the prayer sounded out, ushering in the start of our fight.

I drew my sword and dagger and stood in position. Olaf Birdcatcher’s father barked out loudly and threw himself at me like a savage beast.

He was slow, very slow. Not for most people here, of course. It would be plenty fast for them, but not for me.

Quickly hopping to one side, I let a sweeping blow of the poleaxe whizz past, cutting a stripe into Magnus’ thigh as I went. The snow immediately took on a reddish shade.

The clan chief took two steps forward out of inertia. With a sharp turn, paying no attention to the injury, he jumped my direction. The poleaxe whistled a few centimeters away from my face.

I again sidestepped it and again cut a stripe into the northerner’s leg with my sword. This time his right.

Everyone there could see that I was playing with the Snowhair chief. If I wanted to kill him, I’d have done so already. I caught sullen looks on me from Magnus’ family. They must have already been aware of where this was leading. Particularly in light of what had happened in the arena the night before.

Magnus Thunder, whose eyes and mind were overwhelmed by anger and fury as well as sorrow at the loss of his son, tried to get me another few times. But every time, his jump and lunge came along with a successful counterattack by me, while he slowly lost speed and agility. My breathing hadn’t even quickened. Also, I hadn’t yet used any mana. My body’s reserves were enough.

The snow underfoot turned into a mess of blood. Magnus Thunder, oozing blood and breathing heavily as he slowly moved his feet, tried awkwardly to get me one more time, but he couldn’t. He stumbled and collapsed to the ground with a heavy sigh. With a bit of mumbling and turning onto his back, he froze. A loud rasp emerged from his throat.

I walked over to him and got down on one knee opposite his head. Meanwhile, I was keeping a close eye on his energy system. In order to be ready for an unexpected strike. But seemingly, my opponent was no longer planning to attack me. Tears welled up in Magnus’ eyes.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” he rasped. “I want to join my boy…”

“Because I want to give you a chance, old man,” I replied.

“A chance?” he asked. Incomprehension froze in his eyes.

“A chance to take revenge on your son’s murderers,” I responded so only he could hear me. “You saw it yourself — the gods have spoken. I had no reason to poison Olaf. I wanted to best him in a fair fight. I was not afraid of him. But the villain who took Olaf’s life was.” The old man looked around. Staring at his allies and enemies. “The man who killed your son is probably much closer than you think. This is not your time.”

“The gods have spoken…” Magnus rasped out quietly. There were no more tears in his eyes. I saw understanding on his face.

“Exactly right,” I nodded and took a crimson elixir which I had modified from my satchel.

I uncorked it, then poured a couple drops into the chief’s throat. After I put the cork back, I lifted Magnus’ hand and set the bottle in it.

“Take care of yourself, old man,” I said and, standing, turned to Magnus’ warriors. “Help your chief.”

Without another word, and not listening the priest’s cries about the will of the gods, I went back into my room. Tomorrow was going to be a hard day. In fact, the day had already turned. I needed to get some sleep.

When I got to bed, I saw that the bundle with the pot was no longer where I’d left it.